Arendelle Syndrome
by Olofa
Summary: A dark short story about a "relationship" between Elsa and Hans. Nothing explicitly described, but definite BDSM theme. Be forewarned, this is NOTHING like my other submission so far.
1. Chapter 1

It was the middle of the night, but Hans was too furious to sleep. He lay on his cot, staring at the roof of his shipboard cell, waiting to be transported back to the Southern Isles to face "justice" for his "crimes". Men had conquered nations, or tried, through all of history. Command troops, and you're hailed as a hero. Use charm and guile, that somehow made him a monster.

"Ha!", he barked.

"Shh," came a whispered reply. A key rattled in the lock of his cell. He sat up and saw a boy in a blue-white hooded cloak opening the door. The boy tossed him a matching cloak. Hans put it on, pulling the hood forward to cover his face as the boy had done. It was a curious choice of disguise, as they glowed in the moonlight like spirits, but Hans was the proverbial beggar who could not be a chooser.

He waited until they were well away from the ship before he dared speak, and even then in a whisper. "Thank you, boy. You have done a great thing for your nation and mine. I will see that you are richly rewarded for this."

The figure made a small gesture and Hans' cloak bundled itself tightly around him and bound his arms as the hood wrapped around his face and muffled his mouth. A soft, familiar voice said, "I have my reward." A brief chuckle. "And I'm not a boy."

After a long walk through the silent streets, through unseen doorways and down rough steps, Hans was given a final shove. The cloak slid off him and disappeared in a puff of flakes. "I hope you're grateful, pretty boy," said Elsa. "This cell is much larger than your last one." It was larger than the closet-sized brig on the ship, and even a bit larger than an average dungeon cell, but it was still a small room with a locked, heavily barred door.

"You'll never get away with this! I'm a prince. My people will come looking for me."

"For you, pretty boy? You're not 'the heir or the spare'. You're the spare of a spare of a spare. One prince more or less can't make a difference. And when people find that pretty boy has fled in cowardice rather than face disgrace, who would look for him in the very castle he would run away from?"

"My name is Hans."

"Your name is pretty boy. Stay pretty and I'll keep you. Otherwise, you can be a toy for Marshmallow to play with. He may have forgiven you for slicing his leg, I'm not sure. We can see." She waved to a rough wooden table with toiletries. "So tend to your grooming, pretty boy. You are a prince, after all."

He looked at the basin, pitcher, soap, brushes, straight razor. She had sauntered close to the bars in her smugness. He grabbed the razor and swung.

She snapped her fingers and with a "pop" the blade puffed into a cloud of ice crystals. "And that's why your name isn't 'clever boy'." In any other context her laughter would have sounded sweet and musical.

She had called him 'pretty'. "I apologize for my behaviour. I was angry, and mad with desperation. But clearly Your Majesty is an extraordinary woman. If there is any service I can provide, please take it as a small token of – "

She flicked a finger at him and his mouth was stuffed with snow. "I'd stay and chat, but I don't want to. Your dinner is there." She indicated a narrow tray holding meat scraps, gristle, and vegetable peels. Her ice dress swirled around her as she turned and left. He expected the dungeon's outer door to slam resoundingly, but it closed with a soft heaviness, like the sound of an enormous snowbank collapsing.

Over the months, he learned the routine, such as it was. She might come for him three times in a day, or he might not see her for over a week. Once a day he was brought a tray of food scraps, diverted from the royal kennels. When she didn't come for him, it would be brought by Little Shadow, a sort of life-sized ice marionette. When Elsa wasn't there, Little Shadow slumped inert like an abandoned doll. When she was present, Little Shadow came to "life" and did as Elsa wished.

Little Shadow was faceless, with a head sculpted to resemble an upswept hairstyle that reminded Hans a little of an onion, although he would never say so out loud. It was almost entirely ice, with packed snow where softness needed to be simulated. It had male and female parts, plus whatever additions Elsa might be inspired to add. Sometimes Hans would serve Elsa, sometimes Little Shadow, sometimes both. Once Elsa brought a large carrot from the kitchens and attached it to Little Shadow. Usually Elsa was in deadly earnest, but as she watched Little Shadow and Hans together she laughed and laughed. Hans did not think it was funny. Little Shadow, as ever, said nothing.

Sometimes Elsa would come down to the dungeon and say, "Mama's restless, pretty boy. Make Mama happy." He knew that when "Mama's restless", things would get…vigorous. Exhausting. And when Elsa grew tired, Little Shadow could go indefinitely. He knew that there were thousands of men, and probably hundreds of women, who would like to have been in his place, but all he could feel was dread or terror.

But "restless" was relatively good. Sometimes Elsa would say that "Mama's cranky." That's when things would get…painful. Excruciating. Ice can be jagged, or burn with cold, or press down heavily, or squeeze, or simply be hard as a bludgeon.

Fortunately there was plenty of snow to pack his wounds.

The worst would be when she said, "Mama's bored, pretty boy. Make Mama happy." When Mama was bored, Mama got…creative. Inventive. Imaginative. That's when icy equipment would manifest, and Little Shadow would wear the most elaborate accessories. Even if he ended physically unharmed, those were the days when Hans would huddle in the corner of his cell, shivering with more than the cold.

Now and then, there were snippets of conversation. One time Elsa mentioned, "Oh, by the way, we've reopened trade with the Southern Isles. Your father was terribly ashamed of your deceit and cowardice, and to make up for it he's offering us very favourable trade concessions. Anna, of all people, was for it. She didn't want to blame an entire country for the actions of one bad apple. She has so much good in her heart, frankly, it takes my breath away. That was the heart you tried to manipulate and break, by the way."

Hans didn't reply. Little Shadow was busy with him, and his mouth was full.

"Taking your breath away. Now there's an idea."

Another time Hans, reckless with despair and starved for human contact, dared to ask Elsa a question. "Why? Why do you treat me like this? Why are you this way? I could have been tortured, or imprisoned, or executed. Why this?"

Her eyes flashed with anger for an instant, but then she became thoughtful. She conjured an ice throne and sat down.

"For many years I kept all my feelings inside. I was forced to. I was the good girl I always had to be. And because of that I almost lost my sister, my kingdom, maybe even my mind. I only found peace when I learned to let them go.

"But now I carry a different burden. I love my sister, and I love my people. They deserve a queen who can bring peace, and light, and love. Now I am the good girl I choose to be. But there are things…

"I still have rage, and fear. I hate my parents for imprisoning me, my soul. I hate them for cutting me off from Anna. I hate them for dying when I needed them. I hate Anna for not breaking down that door, for not rescuing me thirteen years sooner. I hate her for having a bigger prison than mine all those years, and for making me carry the burden of my secret all that time. I hate the people for fearing me.

"It's irrational, of course. I love them. I love them all. I can't blame them for doing the best they could, or for things they couldn't control. And I can't blame myself for being angry at the things that hurt me, even if they came from the people I love.

"All that pain, and rage, and fear. I need a place to let them go, so that I can give the love and compassion they deserve to the people I love. That place is here. And maybe someday, when my soul is healed, I can let you go. To freedom, or prison, or death, or whatever release suits you best. But for now, you stay here, pretty boy, and you make Mama happy."

And with that he knew that he would be in that dungeon for the rest of his days.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been at least half a year. Hans wasn't sure of the date. He had tried to keep track, but he couldn't leave marks on the wall through their coating of ice. He had made marks in the ice, but when Elsa noticed she waved the ice away, and back again. But by his reckoning, it must've been at least half a year.

His clothes were showing their wear. They had to do for him as clothing, pillow, blanket, towel, and occasional bandage. She insisted he wash himself regularly, with handfuls of snow from the drift in the corner. He quickly learned not to disobey, to her face at least.

She gave him a souvenir. "Do you remember these, pretty boy?" She put her hands lightly on his, and conjured shackles over them. They covered his hands like enormous icy mittens. "Do they look familiar?" He nodded. They did. She had recreated, in ice, the shackles he had bound her with, back when he still had his freedom and used it to his own ends. The chains were thicker, however, thick enough to moor a battleship, and heavy. With effort, he could lift his hands enough to stand in a crouch before being pulled back to his knees. There wasn't much point to it. The time when he would even think of trying to charge at her was long gone.

Then he saw her game. She placed his tray of food just out of reach. To make it especially tempting, there were apple cores sticking out from the peelings. Despite himself, he salivated. "Don't worry, the shackles will melt in a few hours or so. And I'm sure the food will keep." And then she strode away.

He strained towards the bars, hungry to see as much space as he could. At least his eyes could have some freedom. Little Shadow slumped in a pile at the far end of the outer chamber. Something caught his eye.

The keys! He knew she'd slip up eventually. For all her powers and title, she was a weak little girl after all. All he had to do was reach the keys…

Was it an accident, or another game? Would she wait until his hands were almost free, and stroll in again? It didn't matter. He had to get to them. He was Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. He did not get where he was by being weak. (For a moment, it occurred to him that "where he was" was a frost-covered cell, but he dismissed the thought.) He couldn't wait for the ice to melt. He wouldn't! He'd show her!

He sat cross-legged, his left hand in its shackle on the floor. He brought up his right shackle, and smashed it down on the other. There was a mark where ice had struck ice. With ten more strikes, he had knocked loose a chip. He began to feel the effort in his arm, but his will would not fail him. After an hour he had made a sizable dent. He switched arms. By gods, he would break these things, and then he would eat those apple cores!

No! The keys! He would run out – no, march out of there like the prince he is. He would be free to rule the Southern Isles. No, Arendelle. He would take Arendelle, and then he would be able to do whatever he wanted. He could have a fried egg with toast.

Prince! Hans! Southern! Isles! He forced his mind back to his days at his family's castle. He tried to remember the clothes he wore, the food he ate, the pastimes. It was all there, but at a distance, as if he were remembering pictures from a children's book. He tried to remember being that ambitious, dissatisfied prince, chafing under a dozen older brothers all closer to the throne than he. The fire was still there, while at the same time he could not believe how Hans could disdain the luxury and freedom.

No, he was Hans!

He was tired, that's all. Tired and hungry and cold. But he would break these restraints, take that key, and march to freedom. Once he was in the sun and air, then he could worry about getting his mind clear.

He switched arms again. He could no longer smash one shackle against the other. The best he could do was lift it, and let it drop. But after one more hour, the ice broke enough for him to get one hand free. He sprawled face down, next to the bars, extending his right arm. He could see his hand touching the keys, but between the ice and the hours of thumping, his hand was numb. Using his arm like a stick, he slowly slid the keys to himself. He pounded his hand against his thigh, and jammed it under his armpit, trying to restore the sensation. Soon enough he felt excruciating pins and needles, but he had enough control to grasp the key. Gripping it fiercely, he forced himself to stand up, shuffle over to the lock, and put in the key.

It didn't turn.

His arms aching, he changed his grip on the key, held it so tightly the metal bruised his hand, and turned with all his might. Nothing.

Could he hear laughter? Faintly, on the edge of hearing? Was he being watched all this time? Or was it in his mind? He could remember her laughter so vividly that he couldn't tell what was real.

Elsa stepped calmly into the room. Had she been watching? Or was she just coming back to check up on him? Did it matter? "Oh, pretty boy, did you really think I would be so silly?" She held up a key. "This is the one for the door. That one is for the royal kennels. Let me demonstrate." She unlocked the door, stepped into his cell, and plucked the apple cores off his tray. She held them up and said, "You had your chance."

Before she could walk away, she saw the grief on his face. She looked at the damp, browning apple cores again. "Oh, here you go." She put them back on his tray.

He fell on them ravenously. "Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you. You are so good to me, Mama." She had called herself "Mama" as a little joke; she didn't expect him to call her that. Still, after all his defiance, it felt good to see him be humble and grateful. She conjured a chair and watched him eat his dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

In the two years since the coronation, Anna had grown from a brave but impulsive girl to a confident woman. But she still kept her love of fun.  
"What's in this?" asked Elsa, holding a large bowl of something in both hands.  
"It's cream, honey, vanilla, and an egg. That's why it's called 'ice cream'. Or it will be, in a minute." Anna held a wooden spoon in both hands, and stuck it in the bowl. "Now, go."  
Anna stirred as Elsa froze the bowl. As the mixture thickened Anna stirred harder, swaying with the effort, bending over the bowl in front of Elsa's gaze. Anna jolted. "Too fast! Can you take it back a little, please?" Unsettled by Anna's nearness, Elsa had suddenly frozen the bowl rock-hard. She pulled most of the coldness back and proceeded more slowly, gripping the bowl firmly as Anna fought against the stiffening. "Annnnd, stop." Anna pulled the spoon from the now-solid mixture. She scooped some of the ice cream off the spoon with her finger and stuck it in her mouth, sucking greedily. "Thif if amafing! (pop) You have to try it. Here." She loaded another finger and aimed it at Elsa's mouth.  
"No, Anna, I can wait until we get proper spoons." She took Anna's wrist and wrestled the finger away from her lips.  
"You can't. Trust me, you can't. Now try." They struggled, Anna giggling, smearing some of the sticky mixture on Elsa's cheek.  
"All right, all right. Just stop…that." Elsa tried to just take a lick from Anna's fingertip, but the next thing she knew she was suckling on Anna's finger, her lips and tongue feeling the softness of the digit in her mouth as the ice cream melted and filled her senses with sweetness. "Mmmm."  
Just the dessert, just the dessert, just think about the dessert. Elsa pulled Anna's hand away. "You're right, that is extraordinary. But so sweet! Did you have to put in so much honey?"  
"You know what would be good on this? Cherry liqueur."  
"You're joking. Maybe we should just give you a jar of honey and a spoon."  
"Maybe we should," teased Anna. She dipped the tip of her pinky in the honey jar, sucked it clean, then licked another sample of ice cream off her index finger. Elsa watched Anna's lips and mouth, and listened to her moan in unembarrassed delight. _She's my sister. It's not right_. Elsa discreetly froze her own hands and pressed one against her forehead and another into her lap.  
"What is it?"  
"Nothing. I'm feeling a little restless. I think I'll have a walk."

Anna watched Elsa leave the room. By now she was used to these sudden absences. When they were first reunited, Anna didn't want to leave Elsa's side. She wondered and worried about Elsa's disappearances at first. But Elsa, gently but firmly, refused to explain. The important thing was that Elsa always came back in an hour or so, relaxed and calm. She just needed some time to herself now and then.  
Anna wished she was more like her sister. Elsa never seemed to have doubts or secrets. Anna was afraid she'd never be as poised or serenely confident as her monarch-sister. As close as they were, Anna could never talk about the pain and anger she still felt over their childhood, the loss of their parents, all the things that happened just after the coronation. She certainly couldn't talk about the unsisterly thoughts that popped, unbidden, into her head. Not and burden Elsa with her problems. It was as if she was trudging through knee-deep snow while Elsa skied effortlessly across the surface. She couldn't pull Elsa down off her skis just so she could have company trudging through the drifts.  
Anna had tried taking time to herself the way Elsa did, but it didn't help. Solitude always made Anna a little anxious. But sweet things seemed to help, if just for a moment. Anna took the ice cream to the kitchens to be served with dinner, and went in search of that cherry liqueur.

As sometimes happens, discovery comes not through effort but by serendipity. As Anna entered the wine cellar, she saw Elsa swing open a column of shelves that had appeared to be firmly fastened to the wall. She didn't want to disturb her sister, so she decided to come back later and find out where, and how, Elsa was restoring herself.  
That evening after dinner, featuring ice cream drizzled with cherry liqueur, Elsa retired to the music room to practice piano and Anna excused herself to go for a stroll. She strolled straight to those shelves in the wine cellar and prepared to swing them open. She hoped Elsa wasn't drinking in private; that would be a terrible answer to the mystery.  
Anna revised that opinion shortly.

She stepped down a couple of stairs, turned a corner, and saw a man in a frost-lined cage. He was attractive and surprisingly well groomed, given that his clothes were tattered rags and he was huddling in the corner like a frightened puppy. If Hans hadn't disappeared years ago, Anna could've sworn it was him.  
He looked at her with mild surprise, as if she were a guest who had arrived early. "Anna, hello. Welcome. Am I dreaming already?"  
"Are you dreaming?"  
"Well, of course I'm dreaming. No one comes down here but Mama and Little Shadow."  
Mama? Was Mother Gothel still alive? Does Elsa know? She must, she came down here. Then Anna saw a figure made of ice, collapsed in the corner. She walked to it. "Is this Little Shadow?"  
"Yes. Mama made it to help her out."  
Anna looked at the mannequin. Its body was an unnatural mix of male and female, and its face was smooth and blank. She would've preferred anything, even an ugly, vicious mask, to that cold emptiness.  
She looked into Hans' face and saw a different blankness, but just as horrifying. He said, "Now you ask me what you're doing here." She didn't know what to do. "It's okay. Every time I dream you, you don't remember."  
"How often do you dream of me?"  
"All the time. And always the same. Now ask me."  
"So, what am I doing here?"  
"You're here so I can apologize to you."  
"Uh, go ahead?"  
"No, now you ask me why."  
It was like playing a game with a child, insisting on following the rules. "Why are you apologizing?"  
"Because I was bad. I tried to break your heart, and kill you, and kill your sister, and steal your kingdom. I was cruel, and I was very bad, and I'm very sorry." He waited for her to reply, then said, "Now you ask what I'm doing here."  
"What are you doing here?"  
"Mama has feelings that make her unhappy. She lets them go, here, with my help. It hurts, but that's okay. I'm making up for what I did. And then she's happy, and she can be a good sister and a good queen. And I help."  
"How does she 'let them go'?"  
"No, now you say if you forgive me. Sometimes you do, sometimes you don't. It depends."  
"How does she 'let them go'?"  
"That's not the way it goes. Do it right."  
Anna was afraid she wouldn't like the answer, but she had to know. "I'm not going to say it until you tell me how she lets the feelings go."  
Afraid to break the pattern but more afraid to disobey, he told her. Despite the terror in his memories, as he described the things Elsa had done to him he developed a rigid erection, barely concealed by his tattered clothes. There was genuine despair as he told her of the things he was forced to do, the things that were done to him, yet at the same time his hips rocked forwards and back, apparently without his will or even his awareness.  
Anna was horrified. Elsa couldn't be that cruel. Elsa couldn't do those things. No one could. She realized that, if it started when Hans "escaped", this had been going on for nearly two years of slavery and isolation. Despite herself, despite her dismay and nausea and shame, as she saw his erection and pictured some of the things Elsa (and Little Shadow) had done to him she felt a hot flush rise to her face. If she could've turned away she would've pressed her face to the ice-cold wall. As it was, she put her hands against the ice and tried to will the cold into herself. Hans kept going, describing what Elsa would do when she was "restless", or "cranky", or "bored", the tortures and assaults and cruel games. Anna's stomach sank as she remembered the times Elsa had dismissed herself, saying she was bored or restless. How many times had they been together, playing or talking or snuggling, when Elsa had suddenly become "restless"? Had she been making Elsa feel this way? Had she made her do this?  
A voice behind Anna, quiet and sad, said, "You weren't supposed to see this."


	4. Chapter 4

Anna turned and the sisters faced each other, Anna's face full of horror, Elsa's full of sadness. The silence between them was broken by Hans. "Am I not dreaming, then?"  
"No, pretty boy. This is real." Elsa opened the cell door wide, casually stroked the hair of the now-kneeling Hans, then just as casually slapped him hard across the face. The sound rang against the walls. He swayed, then came back to kneel at her side again, terrified but loyal.  
"Elsa! What are you doing? What have you done? Is everything he said true?"  
She motioned for him to stay and stepped back to her sister. "I didn't hear everything, but I suspect it is. He may be confused, but I'm sure he wouldn't lie. Not anymore."  
"Do you know what this is, Elsa? Queen Elsa?" To commoners, tales of Snow White's persecution or the curse of Maleficent were deliciously frightening because they occurred at a safe distance. But as a member of the court Anna had met Snow White's family, and Aurora's, and other royal families that had been touched by evil. Wicked queens were a real danger, as real as war or assassination. In desperation as much as anger Anna said, "Can't you see this is evil?"  
She braced herself for the stubbornness she had seen from Elsa in the ice castle, all that time ago, but instead her sister's eyes filled with compassion, love, and gentleness. "Evil? Yes, it is. And it hurts me terribly. But I've done all this for you."  
"For ME?" For an instant Anna wanted to strike her, but she knew the power Elsa had and she had a new knowledge of what her sister was capable of doing. She looked to the only exit, but knew she couldn't make it in time if Elsa wanted to stop her. For the first time in her life, Anna was afraid of her sister.  
"Shh, shh. You have to understand. It really is for you, and for our people. Your heart is so pure, and your spirit is so filled with joy. I wish I could be like you. I wish I could be as innocent as you, free from dark thoughts and impulses, from anger and fear. You deserve that. But I can't. I love our parents, bless their memory, but 'conceal, don't feel' doesn't work. So when I have those feelings, I carry them down here, and I take them out on him. And then I'm better." As she had been speaking, Little Shadow had bent Hans over so he was on his face and knees and began to pull down his breeches.  
Anna suddenly noticed. "Stop that!" she said, looking first to Little Shadow and then to Elsa.  
"I'm sorry." Elsa looked embarassed, as if she'd been caught swiping a cookie. "It's been doing my will for so long that I barely need to command it at all." With a nod she silently order the ice-figure to go to the far end of the room.  
"Can't you see how wrong this is?" Anna took Elsa by the shoulders and looked pleadingly into her eyes. "This cannot make things better, not really."  
"It truly is for the greater good. Would it really be better if I carried these feelings around with me, putting every passerby at risk, instead of collecting them here? And is anyone more deserving of this treatment than the man who tried to deceive and murder his way to our throne? This place for me, forgive the image, is like a toilet." At the words, Hans put his arms behind his back, tilted his head back, and opened his mouth. "No, pretty boy, not now." He straightened up again. "I mean, I need a place to dump the things that would poison me, but I don't want anyone to watch me do it. There are things in my soul that I have to let go of."  
"But you're not letting anything go. You're…practicing! When you practice the piano, do you play the piano less? No, you get better at it, more proficient. Look what happened with that…thing…just now. Tell me honestly, have you been coming down here less lately, or more?"  
Elsa was stung. "I have a lot to deal with. Pressures of state. Diplomacy. Justice. Responsibility." She thought of Anna's finger in her mouth. "And things you don't even know about."  
"Then tell me. Share with me. We can work things out together. That's always what turns out best for us."  
"You can't understand, Anna. You don't have these things inside you."  
"But I DO!" Elsa was stunned. Anna had surprised herself, as well. Hans huddled in the corner, eyes closed. He could not imagine anyone talking to Mama that way.  
"Anna? What do you mean?"  
"I'm not that perfect, perfectly innocent, perfectly happy, perfectly stupid little girl you think I am! I have anger, too, and fear, and petty thoughts, and impulses I mustn't follow. Don't you think I've dreamed of doing to him what you've been doing to him? He was a conniving murderous bastard, sure, but on top of that he made look stupid! I love our parents, bless their memory, but there are times I am furious at them for drowning on us. And 'conceal, don't feel'? What a disaster that was! And you! I thought you were on a whole different level from me. I admired your grace and gravitas, but I hated it too, because I thought I'd never be that good. I thought I'd never be like you. That's why I thought I couldn't talk to you about these things. I thought you wouldn't understand, I thought you didn't have these thoughts, I thought you were above all that. Well, thank God I'm not like you, 'cause I don't have my own personal torture chamber to let off steam!"  
Silence hung between them like the clouds from Anna's breath.  
Gently, Elsa said, "I'm sorry."  
"Well, I'm sorry too."  
Another silence.  
"Anna?"  
"Yes?"  
"What do we do now?"


	5. Chapter 5

"I won't help you," said Grand Pabbie, and turned away.

Anna and Elsa had snuck out to the Troll Valley, to the one person – being – Anna could think of who could help them. She had insisted they bring Hans, so at the moment he was under a blanket, asleep, in the back of the modest wagon they had taken. Sven was in harness, the one animal comfortable with riding into that valley. Elsa had told Hans to relax, but he didn't remember how. Anna told him to go limp, and he soon fell asleep.

When they arrived, Anna asked Pabbie to help them, since she had the closest connection to Kristoff and thus to the trolls.

But Elsa stepped forward. "I'm the one to tell him what I've done. It's my responsibility." And she kneeled and told him about what she had done to Hans out of anger, then pleasure, then addiction. What had seemed so natural in the tiny dungeon had become shameful as she saw herself through Anna's eyes, and now that she was speaking it out loud she could see how dangerously corrupt she had become. She had confined the corruption to one small room and a single victim, but she was finding it hard to feel grateful for that.

She asked Pabbie to do for her what he had done for Anna, and extract this madness from her mind. In her nervousness she felt a sudden tug inside her, telling her to run to the cart, throw pretty boy back in his cage, and comfort herself with his pain and her pleasure. She could lose herself in having him please her, then watch him squirm as she abused him, and let that indulgence wash away the guilt and doubt. She didn't even have to wait to get back. She could bury his face under her dress as Sven took the wagon back to the castle's stables. Anna could walk.

She was a Queen and a Sorceress. She could do as she pleased.

But it had wounded her when she had been called a monster. She saw that she was becoming one, and she had to turn back.

And when she had finished her confession, Grand Pabbie had walked away from her.

Anna dashed around and stood in his path. "Not help her? Why not? Can't you see how important this is?"

"Indeed I can. This is dangerous and grave. But when I helped you as a child, you were a child, and you had been touched by magic. Magic did not bring her to this. This was not done to her. She is not a vulnerable child. Anna, this is human business, that you humans have brought on yourselves. It's nothing to do with us." He moved to step around her.

She shifted and blocked his path again. "What can we do?"

"You can learn to control your sister. Your sister can learn to control herself. You can learn to live with the consequences. Or you can ignore it and hope things don't get too far out of control. Whatever seems wise to you."

Anna sighed heavily. Just before she stepped out of his way she asked, "Could you at least do something for Hans? Could you help him? He's kind of…broken."

"I'll take a look." Pabbie climbed lightly into the cart and placed his hand on Hans' head, listening to what only he could hear. "Oh dear." He turned to Anna. "Are you sure you would want me to return him to who he was? The cunning liar and would-be murderer? Do you want that danger restored? Are you certain?"

"If that's what it means, yes."

"Your Majesty?"

Elsa stood up, paused for a moment. "Yes."

"I cannot help Hans. The shards of his mind are too broken and scattered to be gathered again. But I will help your sister, Anna. You have proven yourselves worthy."

She should've been grateful, but she was infuriated. "Really? All this was necessary? To prove ourselves to you? You couldn't just slap your hand on our foreheads and read our worthiness that way, and save us all some grief?"

_And that's why Kristoff called her Feisty-Pants._ "I'm not the only one who needs to know that you're worthy. Now, Elsa, come sit in the wagon. You're going to sleep, and I'd rather not have to lift you." They smiled weakly at each other as Elsa settled into the straw-lined cart.

"One moment," interrupted Anna. "Is there anything at all you can do for Hans?"

"Hans is dead. I can do something for this shell. I'll give you some herbs."

"What will they do?"

"They…are humane. He won't suffer."

Anna's shoulders sagged. "I see."

He turned back to Elsa. "I'll remove the memories, but not the lessons. You mustn't lose what you have learned about yourself and about your sister."

"My…" A flicker of surprise crossed her face as he placed his hand on her forehead. She slumped, and her breathing grew slow and regular.

A few days later, Queen Elsa was speaking with her advisors and with Anna, about the kingdom's affairs. "We have just a small bit of a scheduling problem," said the Councillor of the Exchequer. "A delegation arrives tomorrow from the Southern Isles to celebrate the normalization of diplomacy between our nations. Their king will be present. It's very important for trade, and it would be a breach of protocol if you, as our monarch, were not there."

"On the same day we receive representatives from Allemand," continued the Councillor of State. "There are border disputes, and rumours of war. It is potentially explosive."

"But you can't ignore a ruler to speak with mere diplomats."

"Or ignore the threat of war for ceremonies and trade treaties."

Elsa silenced them with a look. "I will meet with the delegation from the Southern Isles. Anna will negotiate with Allemand."

"Anna? With respect, Your Majesty – " said Exchequer.

"And with respect to the Princess – " said State.

"Let me tell you about the Princess Anna. One day we were out together, travelling through Troll Valley. I…" She became vague and uncertain. "I badly injured an animal. A fox, I think it was."

Anna hid her surprise. _That never happened. _

"Yes, a fox. I remember the colour of his…fur. And he was cunning. A fox. It was carelessness on my part. Nothing could be done for him. But as I sat and watched, it was Anna who had the strength to put him down." She sat up straight, and the clarity came back to her eyes. "Do not mistake compassion for weakness, gentlemen. Compassion does what needs to be done. Anna will speak for us."

_Thank you, Pabbie,_ thought Anna.

After the meeting, Anna took her sister to a small reading room off the royal library. When they were inside she lit the swag lamps and closed the leather-upholstered door.

"Anna, what are we doing here? This was Papa's quiet room." And true to its name, the thick door and heavy tapestries deadened any sound entering or leaving.

"I want it to be our room now. We've been through a lot in our lives, you and I, and we have responsibilities ahead of us. Pressures to face."

Elsa sat in the armchair, and gestured for Anna to sit on the chaise longue. She smiled indulgently at her younger sister. "Anna! I've never seen you so serious. Are you well?"

"You respected me out there. Thank you. I need you to respect me in here, too, for at least a minute."

Indulgence was replaced by curiosity. "Of course. What is it?"

"We need a place to talk. Someplace private, where we can share the thoughts and feelings we don't want others to see, that make us feel guilty or ashamed or scared."

Elsa sat back pensively. "We had a fight about this. Not too long ago. I can't remember where."

"Exactly. I don't want it to come to that again. I think you need a place to come when you're bored, or cranky, or restless, where we can talk things out. No secrets. Where we can say anything, without shame or judgement. Or do anything. And what is said and done in here stays here."

Elsa felt the ghosts of memories brush against her mind. "A small, closed room. Private. Where I can take the thoughts and feelings that cannot live anywhere else." She felt ashamed, and excited, but she couldn't say why. "I think that would be a good idea. In fact, there was something you said during that fight. Why can't I remember where we were? Not important. Something about your being angry at Papa. I wanted to say you're not alone."

That first conversation went on for nearly an hour, but from outside the room no one could hear the shouting, crying, or laughter.

Late that night Anna slipped into the wine cellar, undid the new latch that Elsa didn't know about, and entered the little dungeon. She was glad Elsa's false memory hadn't actually happened. She wasn't sure she could put down an animal like that in real life.

"Mama Anna! Is Mama Elsa coming?" said Hans, or what was left of him.

"No, pretty boy. I told you before. She won't be coming again."

"I was supposed to make Mama happy. Was I bad?"

"She's happy enough that she doesn't need to come down here anymore." She put the tray of scraps in his cell. The door was left unlocked, but it didn't make a difference. Anna also carried an apple and a dinner roll. She took a small bite out of each, and tossed them on his tray. "I'm full. Take care of those." He wouldn't eat them unless they were "scraps".

"Thank you, Mama Anna. Thank you."

She watched him eat, and thought about how he was when they met. With a chuckle she realized that he had finally become what he had pretended to be: utterly devoted and dedicated to her. And still handsome. In the less-tattered clothes she had snuck down to him, he was just as attractive as ever. Maybe more so, now that his face had lost that hint of predatory sharpness. Maybe less so, because it was replaced by an uncanny blankness.

Without Elsa's presence, the automaton Little Shadow had melted away. Anna had replaced it with a sort of stuffed scarecrow. It kept pretty boy calm. The flurry in the corner of the cell seemed permanent, thought. It provided a stockpile of snow for Hans-that-was to slake his thirst, and to wash and wipe himself. Other than that, the ice and frost had retreated.

For a broken shell, pretty boy could be relaxing to be around. Not like Kristoff. Not today, anyway. That morning Kristoff and Anna had fought about whether she took his job seriously. She couldn't go with him on his delivery because she had important responsibilities as Princess. Kristoff had said, "You give a normal woman a choice between a block of ice to keep her food fresh or an export treaty, she's not going to choose a piece of paper and spoiled food."

"So I'm not normal, am I?" she had answered, and things went downhill from there. Kristoff had left on his delivery and wouldn't be hurrying back. But she had been right, after all. If she went with Kristoff she would've missed the meeting, and then who would negotiate with Allemand?

"So Mama Elsa is happy?" Anna came back to the present.

"Happy enough."

"Is Mama Anna happy?"

As he kneeled before her, she ran her fingers through his thick hair, and felt the softness of his handsome face. Then she slapped him hard across the cheek, the sound making the room ring like a chime.

"Honestly, Mama Anna is feeling a little restless."


End file.
